


Midnight Castles

by RenaLanfordGirl (LadyArrowhead)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:39:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyArrowhead/pseuds/RenaLanfordGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fevered Templar Carver feels that he does neither belong in the Templar Quarters nor his sister's house at Satinalia. Finding himself at Merrill's place he finds someone who realized that he just needs to talk - and someone who can listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Castles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chileancarmenere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chileancarmenere/gifts).



"Oh, it is _so nice of you_ to come over, Carver, especially today! Isn't it Satinalia? Aren't you supposed to be with Haw-... are you alright?"

Her words reached his mind only minutes later after he had been staring into the forest that bloomed in her eyes, the deep green that he always thought of whenever he felt a small glimpse of doubt if being a templar had been the right decision. He ignored the way his view blurred for a moment and swallowed the cough that was making its way up his throat.

"Just a bit dizzy.", he answered, his voice hoarse as he was speaking.

At the very moment Merrill stepped aside, letting him enter her small house, "You look a bit pale...don't you think it would be better to get home and have a little rest? Not that I don't want you at my house or anything, I rarely get visitors, though, one time even Fenris came here and...oh I'm sorry I'll make you some tea, would that be fine?"

He nodded and sat down at one of the chairs, brushing a rat away with this right foot.

"Thank you."

Of course, Merrill was right. He needed to rest but the templar quarters seemed more like a prison to him, with all the fake laughter that filled its rooms way to easily. He had felt as if the ceiling was falling down on him every moment, stopping him from thinking straight. He had left the quarters, his fever keeping him warm, wandering the streets of Kirkwall that didn't show any signs of winter.

It was cold, biting cold but that was it. The nobles still had enough money to buy plants and trees they could put out, creating the illusion of wealth and spring. Carver had smiled when he had realized it, a bitter smile, for the real face of Kirkwall had been revealed by this action - pretending to be strong, but cold and without mercy or understanding in one and the same breath. Looking like spring when it was in fact winter.

He had passed a few taverns, his sister's Estate. _No, the one of the Champion._

He would not have felt welcome there, especially not when he knew that Anders was in there, too, probably having one of his more happier days.

_Something that should not be ruined by templar._

His way had led him across to the Blooming Rose, past Gamlen's house and in the end to Merrill's place. Feeling like in a dream he had knocked on the door, expecting her to be out - but within a second at had opened.

"Here, drink that."

Blinking and pulled back into reality, Carver managed a tired smile and took the teacup from her hands. He politely took a sip, just to almost spit it back into the cup when his manners reminded him of better swallowing it.

"It..it is bitter."

"Of course. You are ill, Carver, so I made some herbal tea.", she answered, a tiny smirk curling up her lips, "I also brought you a blanket so you won't get cold."

"It is just a cough it will go away.", he protested, but was interrupted by another cough that had forced its way up his throat. Carver allowed Merrill to gently put the blanket around his shoulders, an awkward gesture, considering he was still wearing the heavy templar armour. Merrill was very careful, tugging the blanket a few times until she was sure that he would feel warm under it.

"What time is it?" Carver asked and got another smile of hers as an answer. Did he have something on his face that she was smiling so much? He carefully touched his cheek, but felt just sweat on his hand.

" _Three hours to Midnight_. Why are you asking?"

He took another sip of tea so he could slowly get accustomed to the taste. Still he grimaced, getting Merrill into a giggle. "I just don't want to stay too long at your place.", he explained and added with a slight smirk of his,

"We don't want people to gossip about us, do we?"   
She tilted her head slightly while refilling his cup with more tea, "Why should people gossip about us? No one besides our party and you know that I'm a mage."  
It was probably just the fever that made his cheeks grow warmer in an instant since a Hawke didn't blush at all, "I-I meant that. And, w-well...you know...since Anders and my sister are working so hard on supporting the mages I feel like I probably shouldn't stick around them more than I already do."  
Merrill had sat down beside him, resting her elbow on the table and her head on her right hand, like his sisters sometimes did. Maybe she had picked it up from her. It made her look more focused on conversation.

An odd thing as Carver as used to the fact that no one would  really listen to him.

"But you never stick around. You don't come over and greet us and you don't visit us at the Hanged Man...you are never there."

He shrugged, "Well, I know I'm not missed there. My sister has people who care about her - Anders, Aveline, Isabela...you." He coughed and covered his face in his hands for a moment, blinking several times. Even if the small house was only lightened by a few candles he still felt like the light was way too bright for him. "She doesn't need me around herself.

She's fine and happy."

When he opened her eyes again he had expected to see Merrill's usual facial expression - a bit smiling, her eyes glittering like the stars, her face relaxed and lost in thought of better times. Instead she frowned, her mouth was slightly open and he saw pure disapproval in her expression. Merrill didn't say a word about her objections but the expression alone let him feel even more guilty.

Another person disapproving, another person he was losing. The last friend he might have had. He had met a woman named Vhera whose beliefs were a bit closer to his, he had talked to Keran, though when he had found out that Carver was the Champion's brother, the relationship had changed into something that Carver could not enjoy.

"I couldn't stay in the Gallows. Not tonight."

"You do not need to explain yourself, Carver.", She interrupted and gently placed her left hand on his for a moment, "You came here, on a holiday despite your sickness and I'm feeling honoured for that.

It just feels like you don't want to be here. Like your mind is somewhere else."

He shrugged helplessly and for a moment silence grew between them, watching them with her hollow eyes. Merrill didn't remove her hand, in fact she gently caressed his hand for a moment, giving him comfort even if he did not show any signs for wanting it, according to his own perception. Her thumb gently moved over the back of his hand, even then he felt how soft her hands were. Carver withstood the wish to turn his hand around and entangle their fingers. This was just her way of supporting him, nothing more.

"Is there something you wish to talk about? I babble very often because there is so much and it is you who listens all the time. Maybe this time I need to listen and..well, there is still three hours to Midnight. So we've got time."

"There is nothing that would interest you.", he whispered and withdrew his hand. He took the cup into both of his hands and didn't let go of it. To Carver it was easier to avoid questions than actually answering them. And no matter how close Merrill was to his heart, he had intended to keep it like that.

She didn't need to know that he missed Marian. That he was still jealous of his sisters ability to unite people and mostly talk her way out of things while he could just fight. And most of all while the world around him had slowly gotten into clear pieces - mages and templars, nobles and peasants, black and white - Carver had remained grey in colour and opinion.

Was he just following the footsteps of another person, now, that he had distanced himself more from his sister?  Was he now at least a Hawke, but not anymore a Carver, since Maurevar Carver had been a templar before him?

Or was he simply still in his sister's shadow, still the brother of the Champion and nothing more than that?

He didn't even know if he was happy. He just knew that at this moment he wanted to stay in Merrill's house, which felt like a safe haven to him. Here he was sheltered away from Kirkwall's nasty smiles and from dark thoughts. Here he could just listen to her, smell the scent of flowers,summer and earth and forget.

Apparently this was not possible now since she wanted him to talk.

"Then tell me what you usually did on Satinalia. Varric and Isabela always tell so many interesting stories about adventures and fires and feasts - has it been like that everywhere?"

For a moment he remembered Lothering, the smell of his mother's soup, him and his sisters playing outside under the watchful eye of his father.

"I don't remember fires but snow.", he started and drank a bit more of the tea. By now he didn't even realize the bitter taste for memories of happier times sweetened it,

"Lots and lots of snow."

"Snow is not good for travelling. You get problems in driving the ships and the hallar get sick easier. I don't really like snow - it is also so cold! We can be lucky that it hardly snows within the city."

He shook his head, clearly disagreeing, "You never built a snow men, did you? Or had a snowball fight?"

"Fighting?", she frowned and leaned a bit forward as to make sure she understood him the right way, "You were fighting within the snow? But you could have gotten a cold if you were wounded in there."

Carver chuckled, "Those are fun, especially because I easily won. You simply create a ball with your hands and throw it at your opponents and you try not to get hit by yourself. Marian, Bethany and I could play it for hours. We ran and screamed and often fell down but the snow protected us from getting hurt."

His smile widened when he thought back to those days - Marian, already with short hair, trying to protect Bethany from his winning-manoeuvres, Bethany crying, her braids filled with snow. In the end they punished him by building armies of snow men while he was hiding. Behind those they hid and eventually had managed to let the fights end with a draw. (though he had let them win of course)

"It just made us happy. Since my sisters were mages we didn't get to play as often as we wanted. Father had to teach them a lot. But when there was snow he'd let us always play. Ice-skating, dancing with snow men, building snow men, making snow angels..

you would like it Merrill. I'm very sure of that."

"Tell me more about snow.", she said with a patient smile.

And so he did. He told her of the lake Peaches had showed to him once and how she had taught him ice-skating in a proper way so when he went there with his sisters he could actually show off with his skills.

He told her of that one time when their father had woken them late at night and asked them to help him with building a snow templar in their living room. He had kept the snow from melting with his magic and shown it to his sisters, while he and his mother had been busy with decorating their new family member, Ser Coldnose.

He had also suggested this as a name for _his_ mabari, but since Leander had chosen to follow his sister instead he didn't tell Merrill about this detail.

His throat hurt after a while and again his eyesight got blurry but whenever he drank a bit of her tea he felt like he could relax a bit more.

"But you know what is the most beautiful thing about it? When you watch it melt in your hands and it turns to clear water. It is even better with ice.

You can't catch it no matter how much you want. Water always runs away from you, one way or the other. It remains free.

I loved that since I was a kid."

She hadn't said a word about any of his memories, but her face was enough for an answer. The smile on her lips was wide, she had leaned so much forward, that he was tempted to touch one of her braids with his fingers,  her eyes finally shining again that green that he loved so much.

"I miss these days.", Carver admitted hoarsely, shrugging the feelings of regret off easily. "But I can't travel back in time, can I? There isn't even magic that can do that."

Merrill's smile vanished. It made his heart grow cold to see her like this and know that it was his fault. He already opened his mouth to apologize when she stopped him with a small gesture of herself,

"There isn't but there is something else I can do. Are you tugged in and feel warm, Carver?"

The templar nodded, and pulled the green blanket even closer with his left hand ,while his right one still held the tea. Merrill hesitantly stepped on her chair and from that on the table. Gracefully she raised her arms towards the ceiling, the smile on her lips now always mischievous.

"You won't tell, Ser Carver, will you?"

She didn't wait for an answer.

The lyrium he had consumed this day began to sing already in his ears, a soft and gently melody that fit perfectly well to the ice that spread from Merrill's hand into the room. Snow started to fall down on them, covering chairs and plants, tables and pots. The temperature sank slowly, but the tea in his belly kept him warm, and so did the blanket around his shoulders.

Carver could see his breath while Merrill danced down the table, a carefree laughter escaping from her throat, while she closed her eyes and threw her hands once again back into the air, resulting in another wave of snow. Her hair was covered in it and it glittered like a very expensive diamond. The snow was on her face, but it didn't make and just stayed there, pointing out all the small things he liked so much about it, adding to the atmosphere but not to the picture itself.

Here she was, barefoot, dancing in a room while a templar drank tea and couldn't stop himself from smiling while she danced.

Here she was, a reason why he had become a templar.

_Magic exists to serve men, and never to rule them._

What else was Merrill doing right now? She helped him using magic for it. Maybe it was the same with the templars that way, their goal being to serve men and not to rule them.

This was what Carver thought at this moment, watching her dancing to the room, stopping and turning to him, the sometimes childish smile this time fully mature and understanding, her hand slowly stretching out.

_I want to protect her. Her and those who use magic to help._

Carver got up and slowly took her hand, letting her for him to lift it a bit so she could twirl under it.

"It's Midnight.", Merrill said, fixing the blanket around his shoulder once again so his neck wouldn't get cold, "So you would need to go. But as you see my room is already covered in snow and so are you."

She giggled and took a step back from him ,"Kirkwall however is not. And you are ill so I would need to escort you to the Gallows.

How about you stay here and leave next Midnight? We could start a snow fight or watch all of this melt."

Carver smirked, "I'm still ill, aren't I supposed to rest?"

For a moment Merrill looked concerned, until she noticed his expression,

"You are joking, aren't you?"

"I'm just stating the facts. Lets build us a castle out of ice."

When Varric would find them 12 hours later they would lie on the ground, the blanket covering the both of them. Their foreheads would touch, Carver would look a lot better than at Midnight, his cheeks will have gained a rosy colour while Merrill would look a bit more exhausted than usual. The Varric would look up and see the icy stars on the ceiling the two of them had decided to draw and watch, and he would smile, taking this as a very small detail for the story they all shared.


End file.
